


Dressing Them Up

by readriterith



Series: Spring Fling [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of epilespsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readriterith/pseuds/readriterith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is both for day 5 of the Teen Wolf Spring Fling as well as a response to <a href="http://vangoghstars.tumblr.com/post/45092481527/where-did-erica-get-all-of-her-clothes-after-her">a question Vangoghstars wrote ages ago</a>:</p><p> <em>“Where did Erica get all of her clothes after her werewolf makeover? Were they just in the back of her closet? Were they her mom’s? Was her mom prom queen 1985 leather and lace edition? Did Derek take her on a shopping spree after the bite took? WTF happened?” — vangoghstars.tumblr.com</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressing Them Up

Erica has two completely different wardrobes in her bedroom. The first is contained in the off-tan dresser drawers in her room, and consists of the loose fitting (tight has always meant a choking hazard), dull-colored (because if she vomits it’s easier to clean out greys and blacks and browns; she’s had enough experience in the laundry room, furiously scrubbing at stains, that she knows what is easiest to clean), and quite frankly cheap (because she’d rather ruin a shirt she got in a three-pack from Wal-Mart than anything she particularly cares about) clothes that she wears to school. They’re more of a shield against herself, something to protect her from her own body’s malfunctioning. She doesn’t even bother with makeup, because she knows that it just smears and makes her look even worse.

The second, hanging up in a closet that she only opens once a week or when she’s feeling particularly self-pitying, is full of what her mother calls her “healthy clothes” — bright colors, tight-fitting clothes, all the things she wants to be able to wear but can’t. About half of it is clothes she buys with the money her family gives her for holidays, and the other half are gifts from her mom, who tells her with a wistful smile about the the prom dress she bought when she was as a freshman in high school that took two years of eating well and exercising in order to fit into.

After her epileptic attack at the gym, this stupidly hot guy starts talking to her at the hospital and tells her he can fix her. She says yes; she’s so tired of all of the daily rituals that only she has to deal with, and she wants revenge from all of the kids who made fun of her because of something she couldn’t control. When he bites her, she gasps from the pain, but being hurt by her own body isn’t something that’s foreign to her, and while the ache in her shoulder is bright and sharp, she can feel the healing inside of her, like her whole body is being warmed up. She feels stripped bare, split into her component parts, and the end result is promising to be something stronger than she could have ever imagined for herself. She can already feel the effects when her mother checks her out of the hospital that evening and takes her home.

The next day, when she wakes up, she rushes to open up her closet and for the first time ever she picks out her outfit from it. She pulls out the makeup from the back of the cabinet in the bathroom, and carefully picks the boldest colors: a bright red lipstick, a metallic eyeshadow, and gets a kick out of trying different styles of eyeliner application. Walking into the cafeteria at lunchtime, with everyone’s eyes watching only her, is such a rush. When she steals the apple, she thinks of her mom, and what healthy _really_ means.


End file.
